


Keep You Like An Oath

by MaximumMarygold



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A Beacon Hills Hobbit In King Derek's Court, Dwarf!Derek, Hobbit!Stiles, I may continue this actually, I really like it, I swear, M/M, More like King Derek's bed amirite, Stiles Is Going Blind, THIS IS THE UNEXPECTED HOBBIT AU, and then it happened, i didn't mean to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-04 01:19:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4121080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaximumMarygold/pseuds/MaximumMarygold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles Stilinski was a hobbit from The Hills. He was not a... a dwarf, or a burglar, or a dragon slayer, or a warrior. </p><p> </p><p>The Unexpected Hobbit AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep You Like An Oath

**Author's Note:**

> This is definitely what I did today instead of, you know, working on Skyline, sorry.
> 
> IT WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE A HOBBIT AU SORRY
> 
> Someone just asked for "Cute Sterek" and ... this... happened.

Stiles Stilinski was a  _hobbit_ from The Hills. He was not a… a dwarf, or a burglar, or a dragon slayer, or warrior. 

But in the last year of his life he left The Hills, dealt with trolls, ran from orcs, seen not one, but  _two_ elven cities, nearly been squished by rock giants and skewered by goblins, outwitted a particularly creepy, implike lunatic, found a ring that turned him invisible,  _ran from more orcs,_ _stood up to_ the aforementioned orcs, (finally) befriended the dwarves he was traveling with, been carted around by an eight foot tall wild man who lived in the woods,  _kept running from orcs_ , nearly been eaten by giant spiders, kidnapped by elves, ridden a barrel down a goddamn river  _while being chased by fucking orcs_ , faced off against a  _dragon_ , and then realized he’d fallen in love with the dwarf king he’d been traveling with just in time to have to betray him to save the idiot's royal ass.

Oh, and then he’d fought in what was being called The Battle Of Five Armies.

Really, he thought he deserved a little bit of a nap. Or a lot of a nap. 

An  _uninterrupted_ nap. 

But no, there was some asshole poking around at his aching head like he hadn’t just gone through a  _ringer_. 

Stiles bat at the offending hand, weak as a kitten, and managed to groan his displeasure aloud instead of just swearing at them inside his own head.

It wasn’t very eloquent, but it got the job done. 

“Stiles?” The person said and it sounded like they about fell to the ground in relief, “Guys! Stiles is awake.” The hands were back on his head a moment later, this time smoothing his hair back. “Hey, Buddy,” and Stiles suddenly recognized the person as  _Scott_  and then promptly marveled that it took him so long to identify his best friend in the entire world, “I need you to open your eyes.”

“Why?” Stiles grunted.

“Because you got knocked on that stupid head of yours, that’s why.” A woman’s voice replied and Stiles couldn’t help but smile weakly. 

“Were you worried about me, Lyds?” He asked, forcing his eyes open. 

The entire world was far too bright, though a small part of him registered that it wasn’t that bright at all, and his vision was blurry.

 _Really_ blurry.

He could only make out vague shapes and colors.

“I can’t see a damn thing.” He sighed, reaching up to try and rub at his eyes but only succeeding in losing complete control of his own limbs and smacking himself in the face. 

Smooth, Stilinski. 

“Do you remember what happened?” Another woman, Allison, asked, sitting on the other side of his bedroll, opposite Scott, and extending a hand to pet at his bandaged head. 

Uh… Stiles thought, his eyebrows furrowing. He remembered… yelling. And snow. And orcs and… “Laura!” He gasped, trying to push himself up, ignoring the hands that settled on his chest to try and push him back down, “Cora and Derek, they’re all…” Stiles swallowed hard, finally sitting upright despite his friends’ protests that he needed to rest, “They looked bad, are they alright?” 

He didn’t have to be able to see their expressions to know that they were sending each other unhappy looks.

“They’re… they’re not alright.” Stiles’ voice broke.

“We’re not sure yet.” Allison finally answered at the same time Scott said, “They’re alive.” 

“For now.” Lydia added before defensively stating, “You can baby him but don’t expect me to. He’s made of tougher stuff than that and you both know it.”

Stiles couldn’t stay there and listen to them argue; he needed to find Erica and Boyd and  _Derek_. He needed to see them; even if he couldn’t see -which he probably should ask about eventually even if he was terrified to hear the answer.

“Take me to them.” He demanded, “And on the way someone explain to me why I  _still_ can’t see.”

“What do you mean you still can’t see?” Scott asked, urgently. 

“I mean I can.. I can see colors and some shapes but absolutely zero details and it’s starting to make me dizzy.”

Scott swore, loudly, and Stiles figured he was well and truly  _fucked_  in the sight department. “Deaton was worried about this.”

“About  _what_?” Lydia said, and Stiles knew she was scowling. That was her scowling voice. 

“I second that question.” Stiles piped up.

“The knock to his head must have damaged his vision. Maybe only temporarily.”

“I’m assuming that there’s a ‘maybe permanently’ to go along with that?” Stiles sighed, “Alright, well, no use crying over spilled braincells. Take me to see The Hale Pack.”

“Stiles-” Scott started but Stiles was having none of it.

“ _Now_.” 

XoxO

Derek was still asleep when Stiles saw him the first time, and the second, and the seventeenth.

Laura woke up somewhere around the eighth and Cora came back to the world of the at least semi-living around number twelve.

But Derek slept on.

Stiles was pretty sure he should clear out of the mountain before the king -because he  _was_ a king now. He had a kingdom and everything- actually did wake up and realized that the hobbit who had stolen the Arkenstone was  _still there_ and tried to throw him from the battlements.

Again.

But the dwarves were insistent that Derek would be  _pleased_ to see Stiles and that since he awoke from his Alphasickness he understood why Stiles had to do what he did.

Stiles wasn’t sure. 

But then Derek woke up and Stiles was called up to the royal chambers immediately, forgoing his lunch with the rest of the company and hurrying up the endless stairs the room where Derek had been slumbering for nearly two months solid.

If it wasn’t for Allison’s elf healing Derek probably wouldn’t have woken up at all.

As it was he was too pale, and too thin, and too happy to see Stiles.

When Derek had been lying, bleeding, on Ravenhill he’d asked for Stiles’ forgiveness and Stiles had told him that there was nothing to forgive. 

The same did not ring true for what Stiles had done to Derek. There had been  _tears_ up on those battlements and only half of them had been Stiles’.

But Derek was so, so happy to see Stiles still in the kingdom and not back in The Hill where the hobbit had been so adamant that he belonged. 

“Well, I certainly wasn’t going to leave before I knew that you were alright.” Stiles answered, like it was obvious. Which it was.

He was so gone on the king it was stupid; he didn’t go up against orcs and wargs for just  _anyone_.

“You stayed.” Derek said, again, his voice awestruck and Stiles had to wonder just what disgusting possibly magic concoction Deaton was giving the king for his pain and to ward against infection. It had to be pretty strong for Derek to speak to him like  _that_.

But then again, he’d seemed pretty fond of Stiles when the hobbit had showed him the Acorn he’d plucked from Bobby’s garden and then again when Thorin had gifted Stiles with the mithril shirt that had definitely saved his ass out there.

“Of course I stayed, idiot.” Stiles said fondly. “I told you I was going to help you get your home back; I didn’t backtalk a  _dragon_ only to leave before I got to see the fruits of my singed backside.”

Derek laughed, hoarsely, and like it caused him great discomfort -if not outright pain- but also like he wouldn’t choose to stop even if he could.  “Are  _you_ alright?” 

Stiles paused, staring down at his hands though he could barely make them out; his vision growing fainter and fainter with every passing day. “I got hit on the head.” He said softly. “It… it knocked something loose.” He tried to smile, reaching up and wrapping his knuckles on his own forehead for emphasis.

“How loose?” Stiles couldn’t see him but he knew that Derek was looking him over for anything obvious. “You look alright.”

And Stiles had to laugh humorlessly at the wording, “It’s funny that you phrased it like that; because I may look alright but I don’t  _look_ alright.” 

“What?” 

“I’m going blind.” Stiles said simply, though it wasn’t anything simple at all, “At the rate it’s going I won’t even be able to see colors by the end of the year.” 

Derek’s breath caught in his throat. “You’re-”

“Yeah.” Stiles cut him off, “Yeah. And it sucks. But there’s nothing either of us can do about it so let’s just… not. Okay?”

Derek reached out and grabbed Stiles’ hand, linking their fingers together.

XoXO

With Derek awake and walking around and  _kinging,_ it was only a matter of time before someone (Laura) figured that he had filled Stiles in on some of the finer points of dwarf culture - particularly those that revolved around the giving of gifts.

Like shirts made of mithril.

Spoiler alert: Derek hadn’t said shit.

“Derek Hale!” Stiles yelled, shoving open the door to Derek’s chambers and glaring in the general direction of the Derek shaped blob, Stiles could just  _barely_ make out the shape of the dwarf’s crutches leaning against the big, ornate  _something_  next to him and Stiles had half a mind to snatch them so the king couldn’t run away during the tongue lashing he was about to be given.

He didn’t; instead he threw the mithril shirt down onto the desk. “What is that?”

Derek sounded amused, “It’s a shirt, Stiles.”

“Yes, see, that’s what  _I_  thought it was. But according to your sister, who is far more well versed in dwarven culture than I am, it is  _not_ just a shirt.”

Derek cleared his throat nervously all traces of humor gone from his voice when he said, “She uh… she told you, huh?”

“That you proposed to me in front of the entire company and no one saw fit to fill me in? Yeah. She told me.” Stiles crossed his arms over his chest. “You have some  _explaining_ to do. And I will hit you if I need to because king or not you’re a clotpole. You should have just told me; I get that it was just the alphasickness telling you to… I don’t know, pick a mate or something and that I was the only non-related person in the vicinity-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Derek moved and Stiles thought he may have been holding his hands up, “I didn’t… I didn’t give you the shirt because the sickness was telling me to find a mate.”

Stiles pursed his lips, “You weren’t?”

“No.” 

“Oh.” Stiles thought that the single syllable was quite eloquent considering the explosions going on in his mind. 

“Oh?” Derek asked, there was some shifting as he reached for his crutches before he stood and limped his way around the desk to where Stiles was standing. “That’s all you can say?” 

“Well, in my defense,” Stiles said as Derek came to a halt about a half-foot away, “you’re the one who didn’t say a damn thing for  _months_.”

“I wasn’t sure how to broach the subject.” Derek admitted, “You hardly seem to like me most of the time-”

“Loving someone isn’t putting up with their bullshit.” Stiles cut in, “Loving someone is being comfortable enough with them to let them know when they’re being a dollop head.”

“ _Where_ are you getting these insults?” Derek asked, the laugh back in his voice as he raised a hand, his fingers ghosting along the side of Stiles’ face and the hobbit wished he could see Derek’s expression.

“Do you have a problem with them, turnip breath?”

“I have literally never eaten a turnip.” 

“You know what-” Stiles started, but was cut off by the sudden sensation of being thoroughly, perfectly kissed.

He huffed out a surprised breath before raising his own hands to grip at the soft fabric of Derek’s shirt, pushing up onto his tip toes and returning the kiss with a good amount of enthusiasm; he’d been thinking about kissing the idiot king since Laketown.

“Will you marry me?” Derek asked when he finally pulled away; when Stiles’ mind was mush and his lips were swollen and there was a truly massive amount of beard burn on his cheeks. 

“Clotpole.” Stiles mumbled under his breath before pulling Derek into another kiss.

 

Because Stiles Stilinski was a hobbit from The Hill and he  _wasn’t_  a dwarf, or a burglar, or a dragon slayer, or warrior… but he thought he could grow to answer to husband and consort. 

**Author's Note:**

> I MAY make this a series because I really dig it and Ive been writing so much straight up Bagginshield lately that getting to write Sterek, Stiles in particular, is like stepping into old, comfortably bitchy shoes...
> 
> Anywhozzel you can find me on Tumblr - [HERE](http://stilesinerebor.tumblr.com/)


End file.
